


One Look is Worth a Thousand Words

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Mirror Sex, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy is uncomfortable at seeing an old photograph of young Harry and Merlin, happy and smiling together. In response, Harry decides to show him just how happy Eggsy makes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Look is Worth a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago I was rewatching Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and when [I saw the photograph of young Colin Firth and Mark Strong,](http://missbeckywrites.tumblr.com/post/114451834532) I immediately thought of Harry and Merlin. Since then, I've wanted to write this story.
> 
> With many thanks and much love to Mollie, Melody, and Kelly.

"How come you don't got any pictures of yourself around here?" Eggsy asks one night.

He's been living with Harry for about three weeks by then, and he's kind of embarrassed that it took him so long to realise what's different about Harry's house. Well, apart from the obvious things like the stuffed dog and the fact that almost everything is so expensive that he often feels like that old saying about a bull in a china shop.

Harry is rightfully proud of his house. A cleaning service comes by once a week, but Harry doesn't usually wait for them to come around; he does a lot of the work himself. And he expects Eggsy to pitch in and help, which is fine. Eggsy has always been a fairly neat person, and his time in the Marines only reinforced that side of his nature. Besides, it's kind of nice doing the dishes with Harry, elbowing him in the ribs, rubbing his foot along the seam of Harry's trousers, waiting until Harry has both hands submerged in hot soapy water to tease him with a playful kiss.

The biggest chore, though, and one that Eggsy actually doesn't enjoy, is dusting. There's a lot of real wood furniture in Harry's house, which is a pain in the arse, but mostly doing the dusting sucks because there's a hell of a lot of _stuff._

All those collections hanging on the walls, all those framed coins and butterflies and vintage photographs, they all need to be dusted. At first it was kinda neat looking at all those things, but by now it's just old and tiresome. Still, it has to be done, and Eggsy is trying hard to be the kind of man who helps around the house. The kind of man his mum and dad would want him to be. The kind of man worthy of someone like Harry Hart.

So he dusts. And then one evening it dawns on him that even though Harry has all these pictures hanging on the walls, not a single one is of Harry himself.

The revelation startles him at first. It can't possibly be right. Everybody's got pictures of themselves somewhere. But he's lived here long enough to know that it's true. There are no pictures of Harry in this house.

Dumbfounded, Eggsy plops down on one of the dining room chairs. He's never known anyone like this before. In his own house there were always pictures of himself, of Daisy, of Dean and his mum. Most of those pictures were of him and his family lying to the camera by smiling and looking happy, like they were leading such pleasant lives. But lies or not, those pictures were still there –- on tables, stuck on the fridge with cheap magnets, on the background of laptops and cell phones.

He looks up at Harry, who is in the kitchen working on dinner, some kind of chicken dish Eggsy's never heard of before. He doesn't know what's in it, but it already smells awesome. Harry is in his shirtsleeves, his jacket and tie removed, top button of his shirt undone, shoulder holster put away for the night. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, and his hair is just now starting to fall from its careful styling. It's about as casual a look as he ever gets, and the sight of his bare arms and that little patch of skin visible now at the hollow of his throat never fails to excite Eggsy.

Sensing that he's being stared at, Harry looks up at him. One brow lifts in an unspoken question.

So Eggsy asks the question. "How come you don't got any pictures of yourself around here?" Unlike Harry, he's changed into his jeans and trainers. He might be a Kingsman, but he's still never going to think tailored trousers are comfortable enough for lounging around the house in.

"Who says I don't?" Harry replies. He rinses a knife under the tap and then sets it aside.

"I say you don't," Eggsy says. He gets up and walks toward the kitchen. "So why not? Is it a spy thing? Like, don't leave personal things out where the bad guys can see 'em?"

Harry gives him that look, the one that says he's seen too many James Bond films.

Okay, so it's not a spy thing. That means it's a Harry thing. "So what is it then?"

Harry gazes at him. "What if I said the reason you see no such photographs is because none exist?"

"Bullshit," Eggsy says immediately. "Everyone's got pictures of themselves."

"Do they?" Harry says mildly.

"Sure," Eggsy says as he leans against the kitchen counter. "Pictures with family, or friends. You know, stuff like that."

"My family is dead," Harry says. "And I don't have any friends."

"Now I know you're lying," Eggsy says, and is a little surprised by how heated he's getting. "You got me for starters. Roxy. Merlin. The old Lancelot." He only hesitates a moment before adding, "My dad. And them's just the ones I know about."

For about half a second Harry looks surprised. Then he smiles a little. "Thank you, Eggsy."

The idea that someone as good as Harry Hart has to thank him for reminding him that he's got friends makes Eggsy's chest constrict. It ain't right. It ain't fucking _right._

Unaware of Eggsy's thoughts just then –- and it's a damn good thing, too -– Harry continues, "And you are right. There are photographs. I just choose not to display them."

Feeling a little bit better about things, Eggsy reaches out and nicks a cherry tomato out of the salad bowl sitting on the counter. "Why not?"

For once Harry doesn't chide him about the crass habit of stealing from oneself in one's own home. "Because that is my choice," Harry says calmly, and the discussion is over.

They eat dinner and Eggsy talks about his latest training exercise, in which he came close to setting a new Kingsman record for fastest completion. Naturally then Harry has to tell him that _he_ was the one who set that record, nearly twenty years ago. Which kind of freaks Eggsy out a little, mostly because he's usually pretty good at ignoring the large gap in their ages.

After dinner they do the washing up, then Eggsy takes JB for a walk. The night is chilly, and he hurries the dog along, wanting to get back to the heated comfort of the house. Sometimes Harry comes with him on these walks, but mostly Eggsy goes alone. It's kinda nice to go for a walk and not have to worry about getting mugged or running into anyone from Dean's little gang.

When they get back, JB charges ahead into the kitchen, where his water bowl is. Eggsy blows on his semi-frozen hands and rubs them together briskly before taking his coat off and hanging it up.

"Come here," Harry says. "I have something for you." He's sitting on the couch, sleeves still rolled up. In one hand he holds a glass of Scotch. In the other is a photograph.

"Yeah?" Eggsy says, already excited to see it. He sits beside Harry. "What's that, then?"

"What you were looking for, I believe," Harry says.

Eggsy takes the photo carefully; he can tell it's old. Amazed, he stares down at it. He can't think of a single thing to say.

The photo is of Harry and Merlin. They both look twenty years younger. There's no grey at all in Harry's hair, and Merlin actually has hair, although he's already balding on top. Their arms are slung about each other's shoulders, and they're grinning, although only Harry is looking at the camera; Merlin's smile is for Harry alone. They're wearing rugby shirts, and they look flushed and sweaty and rather dirty, like they've just come off the field. Harry's hair tumbles over his forehead in loose curls as he looks into the camera. His expression is open and happy, his smile wide and charming. 

Eggsy has never seen him laugh before. Not like this.

It's a shock to see Merlin so young, smiling and with hair. But the bigger shock is Harry. He looks so _normal_ , like every other bloke having fun and playing sport with his friends on a Saturday afternoon. He's relaxed. He's comfortable. He's _happy._

And the way they're smiling, Harry at the camera, but Merlin with eyes only for Harry. There's a story behind this picture, he knows there is -– but he also knows it's a story he'll never hear.

He clears his throat. "So, like, was you two ever… I mean, did you…?"

"Were we lovers?" Harry asks. "No. To the best of my knowledge, Merlin is not attracted to anyone of either sex. And as for me, there has never really been anyone who mattered." He smiles at Eggsy. "Until now."

Eggsy stares. "Never?"

"Never," Harry says.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Why should you?"

Eggsy can't believe he's actually having this conversation. "Shit, Harry, have you _seen_ you? You're… God." He reaches up. "Especially with your dashing new scar and all."

Harry jerks his head away, though, before Eggsy can do more than brush his fingertips along the very-definitely- _not_ -dashing jagged scar stitched across his forehead.

"Anyway," Eggsy continues, as if he wasn't just rejected, "I'm just sayin' I find it weird and all."

"Why should it be?" Harry says. He sounds calm and composed again, although Eggsy can tell he's unhappy at what just happened. "Life as a Kingsman agent doesn't leave much time for a committed relationship. How do you explain the long absences, the mysterious injuries, the phone calls in the middle of the night?"

"My dad did it," Eggsy says, not without pride.

"Yes, and he was already a Marine," Harry says.

Cover story already in place. Of course. That makes sense. Still, Eggsy won't be denied. "Are you sure you wasn't together? You can tell me, Harry."

Harry gives him a bemused look. "You sound as if you wanted us to be."

"No, no," Eggsy assures him, although he's pretty sure he would be cool with it. He thinks. Maybe. Probably. "It's just… I dunno."

"What?" Harry asks.

He looks again at the picture and Harry's broad smile. "You look really happy there."

"I suppose I was," Harry says thoughtfully. "I really can't remember, though."

"Oh," Eggsy says, rather disappointed.

There's a moment of silence when Eggsy stares down at the picture and Harry does nothing. Then Harry reaches over and takes the photograph out of his hands. He puts his glass of Scotch down, then sets the tips of his fingers beneath Eggsy's chin and turns his head so they're facing each other. "Eggsy," he says softly, "you make me happier than I have ever been." He leans in and gives Eggsy a sweet, chaste kiss.

Eggsy doesn't mean to say it, but he can't help it. The words just kind of tumble out of his mouth. "Then how come you don't ever smile like that at me?"

For a moment Harry looks shocked and hurt. He sits back, and he looks -– not old, no, but almost sad, maybe. "Eggsy, that was a long time ago. I had just joined Kingsman. I was a different person back then. I hadn't seen the things I've seen, or done the things I've done," Harry says. "I suppose it was easier for me to smile back then. To laugh. Even to cry."

This kind of frank discussion is the last thing Eggsy expected when he asked his innocent question about Harry's photographs. But they don't ever just sit and talk like this, and even though it's kind of making him uncomfortable, he really doesn't want to lose this chance. "And now?"

But he knows the answer. He's had to do it himself already, distance himself from the sometimes awful things he has to do as a Kingsman. Mostly it works well enough. Doesn't stop him from still having nightmares about Valentine's bunker all drenched in blood and brains, though.

"Okay," he says. "I get it. Can't get too emotionally involved and all that. Words to live by, yeah?"

"Words to live by," Harry agrees. "After all, your very first mission as a Kingsman turned you into a mass murderer."

Eggsy winces because fuck, that's harsh. It's true, there's no denying it, but it's still hard to hear it said out loud like that.

"When I was recovered enough to be reinstated, I read your file. I know you spoke with one of our doctors about what happened on V-Day, and I was very proud of you for that. Not many people know when they need that kind of help."

Eggsy looks away. Yeah, he'd talked to the therapist a couple times. The memories had haunted him, that room full of glittering disco balls and people with their heads blown up. Knowing that he was responsible for most of the governments of the world being in chaos and ruin. Wishing bitterly that he had been faster, smarter, better. If he had kept Valentine away from that desk, maybe he could have saved more people.

Maybe he could have saved Harry.

"The point is, Eggsy, you will be asked to do terrible things as a Kingsman. And you will do them, because the alternative, to do nothing, is even more terrible. But that doesn't mean that you still won't have nightmares, or regrets, or wish there had been another way."

"Yeah, I know," Eggsy says. "Us trainees all had this lecture from Merlin."

"Then you can hear it again," Harry says with a look that's obviously designed to shut him up. He sighs heavily. "You do things, Eggsy. You wish you didn't have to, but you do them. And you find methods to cope. Mine was collecting things, imposing my own order on a world full of disorder. You will find your own method.

"And you will shut down. It happens to us all. It's inevitable, really. It's impossible to feel things too deeply, and then be asked to do the things you must do." Harry looks at him. "But that does not mean you won't feel at all. And…" His confident tone falters. He actually glances away.

He's fucking terrified, Eggsy suddenly realises. The revelation takes his breath away. All those things he's done, all those times he's faced death, and _this_ is what scares Harry Hart, this conversation right here.

But Harry is made of sterner stuff than that, and when he takes a breath and looks at Eggsy again, his gaze is steady. "I do feel for you, Eggsy. Quite strongly, in fact."

He kisses Eggsy again.

This time it's slow and deep, Harry's mouth opening to his, all wet tongue and lips. Harry's hand cups the back of his head, and Eggsy reaches for him, pulling him closer.

When they break apart, they're both breathing heavily. "I have been emotionally involved when it comes to you since the day I met you," Harry says. "Sitting there with you in that pub." He smiles warmly. "I'm afraid I've never been very good at following the rules."

That's definitely true, and Eggsy can't help smiling back. "You and me both," he says.

"Will you come with me?" Harry asks. He stands up. "I want to show you something."

"It better not be a picture of you and the old Arthur," Eggsy says, and he's only half-joking.

"No," Harry promises. "This is much better."

Pretty sure he knows exactly what it is that Harry wants to "show" him, Eggsy gets off the couch. "Yeah, all right," he smirks.

Harry kisses him, light and sweet. "Thank you."

They head for the stairs. Harry is in the lead, but on the very first stair he turns around so he can lean down and kiss Eggsy again. He sets one hand on the bannister and the other on Eggsy's shoulder. Not because he needs any help keeping his balance, but because he doesn't want to lose contact with Eggsy.

For his part, Eggsy is more than happy to oblige. He walks up the stairs slowly, one at a time, still kissing Harry, opening his mouth to Harry's tongue. As he goes, he starts to undo the buttons of Harry's white dress shirt.

Harry hums with approval into his open mouth and Eggsy smiles, which kinda ruins their kiss, but he can feel Harry smiling back, so that makes it all worth it.

They reach the second floor and stop on the landing to kiss properly. Eggsy's lips are so sensitive by now that they fairly burn. He's so hard his jeans are becoming uncomfortable.

Harry must be able to read his mind, because he reaches for Eggsy's belt. As he undoes the buckle he mouths soft, wet kisses over Eggsy's lips and chin and jaw. Eggsy tips his head back and Harry kisses his throat as he whisks the belt through the loops, then lets it fall carelessly to the floor.

Sex is the only time Harry is ever messy.

Eggsy looks back at him and grins. "Time to take this off, yeah?" he says, and pushes at Harry's shirt.

He stands back a little to admire the view. For a guy his age, Harry is wonderfully fit, muscled without being too obvious about it, and ridiculously strong. Eggsy never tires of this part of his night, when Harry takes off the suit piece by piece, slowly revealing the amazing body hidden beneath all that bespoke wool and linen.

He smiles. "Damn, Harry."

Usually Harry seems at least somewhat appreciative of Eggsy's admiration. He's not vain or focused on his looks, but he works hard to maintain his level of fitness and his appearance, especially at his age, and it's nice to have that recognised. Tonight, though, he just shakes his head and starts backing down the hall toward the bedroom. "Come here."

They move into the bedroom, kissing again. Harry snaps on the light, tugs at Eggsy's shirt and growls, "Off."

Eggsy grins as he hurries to comply. Some nights they take things sweet and slow. Other nights, like tonight it would seem, it's more fierce and feverish. He loves that they can do this, that he can't decide which way he likes better.

This way, maybe. He loves seeing this side of Harry, the armour of the tailored suit cast aside and the real man stepping out. He loves the predator who can kill forty people in three minutes, whose touch can literally bring him to his knees. He's never known anyone like Harry Hart in all his life.

He knows he'll never find anyone like him again.

He sheds the last of his clothes and stands there naked, admiring Harry's body, watching as Harry stares back at him. Admiring him, too. He preens a little, can't really help it. He looks good and he knows it. And he loves showing off, displaying his body and seeing the way Harry's eyes turn dark with lust.

"You are so beautiful," Harry sighs. "My dear Eggsy." He closes the distance between them and kisses him.

With no clothes separating them now, there's nothing to stop him from pressing himself up against Harry, chest to chest. Harry's hands are never still, gliding over his arms and shoulders, down his back, spanning his hips, following the curve of his arse. "Eggsy," Harry murmurs, and kisses him all over, warm open-mouthed kisses on his lips, his neck, his collarbone.

"Do you know how beautiful you are," Harry says. He suckles on Eggsy's nipple, and Eggsy gasps and clutches at Harry's head, twining his fingers in Harry's hair. "I could watch you all day, just drink you in." 

His tongue circles Eggsy's nipple, and it's like a line of fire going straight through him to his erect, aching cock. "Fuck, Harry. God."

"When you're lined up at the shooting range." A kiss on his chest, just above his heart. "When you're in the gym." A kiss on his upper arm, over the curve of muscle. "When you're next to me in bed." A kiss on his shoulder. "I could watch you forever."

It gives Eggsy a thrill to know that Harry is just as besotted with him, to have that kind of power. "You don't have to just watch," he says, and he captures Harry's mouth in a burning kiss. He reaches between them for Harry's cock, and feels another thrill at the sound Harry makes into his mouth.

He starts to back away, leading them toward the bed. His entire body is on fire with need, with want, with love. He's never dared to say that last bit out loud before, but maybe tonight, he thinks. Maybe this will be the night.

Harry walks with him the first couple steps, but then he stops. He lifts his head, breaking the kiss, and actually moves back a little. "No," he says.

Eggsy whines, partly to tease him, partly out of frustrated need. " _Harry_."

"I said I had something to show you," Harry says. "And I meant it." He takes Eggsy by the shoulder and turns him to face the wall opposite the bed. "I want you to see how happy you make me."

Eggsy's eyes widen. He gets it now.

Hanging on the wall is a full-length mirror. They both use it in the morning when they're getting dressed, making one last survey of their appearance before heading out the door and to the shop on Savile Row. The frame is honey-colored wood, like the flooring, as tasteful as the rest of the furniture in here.

"I want you to watch," Harry murmurs in his ear, and Eggsy is lost, hopelessly lost.

He swallows hard and nods. "Yeah. Okay."

He can't pretend this isn't something he's fantasised about. He just never thought it would happen like this.

"Look at you, my dear Eggsy," Harry sighs.

He stares at their reflection in the mirror. Harry taller and leaner, his body dotted with old scars, some of which Eggsy still hasn't learned the story behind. Himself, more muscular, the mole on his neck, a new scar of his own across his ribs where someone tried to stab him a few months ago in Brussels.

It's almost like that first night in the shop, when he surprised Harry with his knowledge of _My Fair Lady._ He has the same sense of inevitability, the same clarity that only comes from knowing that the course of his future is now set. For better or for worse, he is right where he belongs –- here with Harry.

Harry turns to face him, and Eggsy does likewise, putting his right side toward the mirror. They move in together, and this time there's a feverish edge to their kisses. Where Harry touches him, Eggsy's skin burns. Harry's hands glide down his back to cup his arse, and Eggsy grinds against him, his cock sliding over Harry's.

It's good, yeah, but it's not remotely what he needs. "Now," he pants. "I want you now."

Harry looks at him and then nods. He gives Eggsy a soft kiss. "Don't move."

Eggsy turns away so he can watch Harry in the mirror as he goes to the nightstand and opens it. He admires the curve of Harry's arse, the thick cock he can't wait to have inside him. He reaches down to touch himself as Harry takes a packet of tissues and a little glass jar of lube out of the top drawer of the nightstand.

"Don't," Harry says, and Eggsy looks at him through the mirror, puzzled.

"Wait for me," Harry says.

Eggsy holds his hands up, totally innocent, like his cock isn't begging for some attention. He grins. "Better hurry up, old man."

Harry gives him an arch look. Then with excruciating slowness, he bends over and pushes the drawer of the nightstand closed. Slowly, so slowly, he straightens up and begins to walk back over to where Eggsy stands in front of the mirror.

"You're an evil man, Harry Hart," Eggsy laughs.

"I'm sorry," Harry says. He tilts his head to one side. "What was that? I'm afraid this old man might have trouble hearing you."

"Come over here, then, and I'll whisper it in your ear," Eggsy promises. He points to the mirror, and the reflection of Harry's cock. "And bring _that_ with you."

Harry stops walking. "You mean this?" He takes himself in one hand and _strokes._

Eggsy's mouth goes dry. The blood sizzles in his veins, and it's all he can do not to touch himself again. "Jesus, Harry, are you trying to kill me?"

A wicked grin crosses Harry's face for a second, before he relents. At his normal pace, he comes over to stand behind Eggsy, pausing only long enough to set the tissues and the jar of lube on the foot of the bed, where they're within easy reach. He nuzzles at the back of Eggsy's neck. "Are you ready?"

Eggsy nods. "Yes, God, yes." His cock throbs against his belly. The heat of Harry's breath on his skin sends tingles up and down his spine. He feels like he's going to fly apart in another minute from sheer _want._

Harry kisses the top of his shoulder, then the side of his neck. Eggsy turns his head so Harry's next kiss is on his mouth, deep and hot, all slick spit and tongues, and he has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for his cock, he's so desperate to be touched there. He groans thickly, and Harry lifts his head. For a long moment their eyes meet in the mirror, and they just stand there, breathing heavily. 

Then Harry moves away and Eggsy hears the sound of the little glass jar being opened. A quiver of anticipation runs through him. He waits impatiently, and at last one of Harry's hands settles on his hip, thumb rubbing warm circles on his skin.

At the first touch of Harry's fingers, he shivers. He's so ready, Harry's finger just slides right in, and Eggsy makes a low sound in the back of his throat. "Yesss, Harry."

Harry kisses the back of his neck, then the flat of one shoulder. "You're so beautiful," he sighs.

The lube is slightly cool, but it quickly warms to his body. Harry pushes more inside him, and before he knows it, two of Harry's fingers are in him, twisting and stroking him from the inside, finding that spot that makes him shudder all over. His toes curl against the smooth wood floor and he arches his back. "Fuck, Harry!"

Harry looks at him in the mirror. "I could make you come like this, couldn't I? Make you come without even touching you anywhere else." To prove it, he crooks his fingers, hitting Eggsy's prostate again.

Eggsy lets out a strangled groan. "You could," he says, and his voice is none too steady. "But that would just be cruel."

"Would it?" Harry murmurs. He spreads his fingers wide, stretching Eggsy. It feels good, but already it's not enough. He wants more. He wants Harry's cock inside him, filling him completely.

He pushes his rear backward, impaling himself on Harry's fingers. "Enough," he says. "Fuck me, Harry. Just do it."

Harry pulls his fingers free with a wet popping sound. He reaches quickly for the tissues, then again for the jar of lube, this time smoothing it over his cock. Eggsy watches in the mirror, incredibly turned on by the sight. It's something he's seen a hundred times before, of course, but watching it through the mirror makes all the difference. It turns what Harry is doing into a private act, and himself into a voyeur.

His cock twitches; he's leaking now, pre-come glistening on his tip. He watches eagerly as Harry moves behind him, but instead of giving him what he wants, Harry leans in to litter kisses across Eggsy's cheek. He suckles at Eggsy's earlobe and bites down just enough to make Eggsy jump and curse loudly. More kisses down the side of his neck, following his hairline, and just as he's thinking he's actually going to go crazy, he feels two of Harry's fingers at his hole again, testing him.

"Yeah," he urges. "Yeah, come on."

"Are you sure?" Harry murmurs against the back of his neck. The head of his cock is lined up now, torturing Eggsy with the waiting. He takes hold of Eggsy's hips, keeping him still so he can't push back.

"Yes, God, yes," Eggsy pleads. "Harry, come on."

Harry pushes in so slowly, stopping and pulling out a little and then easing in again, and Eggsy squirms and gasps. "Christ, you're a fuckin' tease!"

Harry mouths at his shoulder, scraping lightly with his teeth. His eyes meet Eggsy's in the mirror, gleaming with amusement. "Do you want it?" He punctuates the question with a rolling of his hips.

Eggsy whines and tries to shove himself backward anyway, just impale himself on Harry's cock like he wants. But those hands on his hips won't let him; he's pinned firmly in place. "God yes, Harry, _please_."

"Since you asked so nicely," Harry says, and slides all the way in with one swift thrust.

"Ahhh." The breath stutters in Eggsy's throat. He leans forward and braces himself with one arm, his left hand splayed on the wall next to the mirror.

"Is that what you wanted?" Harry says in his ear. He licks a burning stripe down Eggsy's neck, then breathes out on the same spot, heating it with his mouth.

Eggsy's knees nearly buckle, because Harry is in him, but has yet to move. "Yes, Harry, yes."

"Open your eyes," Harry says.

He hadn't even realised he had closed them. He looks, sees himself in the glass, his cock red and glistening with pre-come, Harry's long fingers wrapped about his hips. Over his shoulder, Harry meets his gaze in the mirror, soft eyes gone dark with desire. His lips are red and swollen, and Eggsy can't help twisting his head around in order to kiss him. Harry's tongue slides across his, then Eggsy has to face forward again, a twinge in his neck.

"Harry," he gasps, "if you don't fuckin' _move_ , I'll…"

Harry chuckles and nuzzles at his ear again, that place just behind his earlobe where it meets his neck, the place that drives Eggsy crazy. "You'll do what?" His voice sounds strained now, which gives Eggsy vicious satisfaction, because if he has to suffer like this, it's only fair that Harry should, too.

Eggsy catches his breath. "A gentleman isn't supposed to keep anyone waiting," he says.

"True," Harry says. "But there are no gentlemen here tonight." And he slams his hips forward.

Eggsy shouts and nearly goes face first into the mirror. He braces himself with both arms now as Harry thrusts into him, setting a pace that's just shy of too much.

For a while the only sounds are their harsh breathing and the slap of skin on skin. With every stroke, Harry's cock brushes that spot inside him that sends sparks all through his blood. His legs tremble and he can feel his balls tightening up. He's close, so close.

"Touch yourself," Harry says. "Touch yourself like it was me."

He doesn't have to be told twice. Finally free to give in to his need, Eggsy lifts one hand from the wall and wraps his fingers about his aching cock. As Harry thrusts into him, he strokes his hand forward, matching the pace and wringing a groan from his throat.

Harry's rhythm falters. "Eggsy."

Eggsy lets go of himself and reaches for Harry's right hand where it rests on his hip. Harry doesn't protest as Eggsy guides his hand to his cock and holds it there, smearing pre-come over their fingers. They stroke him in unison now as he moves Harry's hand with his own. The sight of his cock disappearing beneath both their hands is sexy as hell, and he groans again and clenches down around the cock in his arse.

Harry's breath quickens. "Eggsy. Eggsy." The name falls from his lips like a prayer, and Eggsy feels a heady rush from knowing that he's the only one who can make Harry come undone like this.

"Look at me," Harry commands. His hand tightens almost painfully on Eggsy's cock.

Their eyes meet in the mirror. Harry thrusts once more, then he stiffens against Eggsy's back, groaning as he comes.

Eggsy watches.

It's a feeling beyond words. He sees the way Harry's eyes flutter closed, the expression of absolute pleasure on Harry's face. He can feel the sweat and heat between them, Harry's cock still deep inside him.

And he did all this. He put that look on Harry's face.

By itself that's almost enough to make him come. Then Harry's hand slides over his cock, thumb _pressing_ against his slit while his long fingers curl along Eggsy's length.

And that's it. He's gone. With a shout, he comes all over himself and their hands.

For a moment they lean against each other, getting their breath back. Harry slips out, but stays close. He presses a soft kiss to Eggsy's temple, the shell of his ear, the side of his neck.

Eggsy turns around so he can kiss Harry properly. "God," he gasps in between kisses. "That was so hot."

Harry captures his lips in a long, sweet kiss. "Then we'll have to do it again sometime."

"Fuck yeah," Eggsy breathes.

Harry smiles at him, slow and warm, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. With his hair hanging in thick curls over his forehead, sweat gleaming on his flushed skin, he looks as well-fucked as Eggsy feels.

He grins. "Come on." He heads toward the bed.

"Wait," Harry says. And he does what Eggsy fully intended to do for himself, taking some of the tissues and cleaning them off. It's too soon for his cock to do more than twitch when Harry wipes away the sticky come, but Eggsy leers at him anyway, then just laughs.

Harry tosses the tissues in the small rubbish bin beside the nightstand. Eggsy collapses bonelessly onto his back atop the bed, arms spread out, toes pointing at the ceiling. With a tiny bit more dignity, Harry stretches out beside him, the top of his head brushing against Eggsy's outstretched arm.

Eggsy rolls his head so he can look over at Harry. He smiles.

Harry smiles back, not his usual smile, but free and open, the kind of rare smile that crinkles the lines about his eyes and lights up his entire face. The kind of smile he has in that old photograph of him and Merlin.

The kind of smile only Eggsy ever gets to see anymore.

It hits him then what that means, and he feels so incredibly stupid. This whole thing with that photograph, it was all so dumb. He never should have doubted what he and Harry have. Never should have thought what he did.

It doesn't matter if he ever learns the story behind the photo of Harry and Merlin. That story isn't what's important.

The only story that matters is the one in Harry's eyes when he looks at Eggsy the way he's looking at him right now. 

"Harry," he says, and he can't believe how easy it is. "You know I love you, yeah?"

Harry's face goes soft with pleased surprise. Then he smiles again. "I do," he says. He rolls onto his side and lays his hand on Eggsy's face, and the happiness shining in his eyes is enough to make Eggsy's heart soar. "And I love you, my dear Eggsy."

"Yeah," Eggsy grins. "I know."

And he does know. Part of him always knew, even before he became a Kingsman. But it means something to hear the words said out loud. It makes a difference. It puts a funny tightness in his chest, but at the same time it makes him want to leap around the room crowing at the top of his lungs. 

He can't remember the last time he felt so incredibly happy.

He kisses Harry, a sweet press of his lips to Harry's.

Without a word they move into each other's arms. In a little bit they'll get properly cleaned up and ready for bed, but for now they just lie together, perfectly content. Eggsy loves these times when the rest of the world falls away and nothing else matters. When it's just the two of them.

He breathes in deep and closes his eyes. He doesn't want to say anything yet, but he's got an idea about those missing photographs, the ones not on the walls, or on the fridge, or on Harry's laptop. Starting tomorrow, all that's going to change. He and Harry are going to start telling their own stories. He's going to take pictures. Lots of them. He can get Roxy to help out, snapping pictures of the two of them together.

And if Harry doesn't smile wide for those pictures, if he stands in them somewhat stiffly, a modern knight dressed in bespoke armour, that's okay. Because Eggsy knows the truth. He's seen that smile Harry reserves just for him. He doesn't need a photo to remember it by.

He'll always remember.


End file.
